


Listen To The Sea

by MerHums



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, But everything is consensual, Happy Ending, Human Mycroft, M/M, Merlock, Mermaid Lestrade, Mildly Dubious Consent, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-30 08:49:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5157605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MerHums/pseuds/MerHums
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Mycroft is thrown from his ship in the middle of a vicious storm, he thinks he is done for. But a flash of silver scales and hair proves him wrong, as rescue comes from the most unexpected places.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Listen To The Sea

Objectively, Mycroft Holmes knew he was going to die. The storms of the past week had been too great; the ship was foundering. Blue, cloudless skies, teased the battered survivors, even as water washed over the gunwales. Two lifeboats had been lost in the storm, the third had been stolen away the night before by a handful of passengers and crew, and the fourth was too tangled up in lines and debris to be freed by the weak survivors. They were a month out of port, blown God knew how far off course, there was no chance of rescue aside from a miracle.

Some of the passengers had gathered together to pray. Mycroft stood away from them, too pragmatic, even in the face of death. The ship creaked and slipped ever lower, before canting to one side and rolling, throwing him into the merciless sea.

Mycroft closed his eyes, awaiting his final fate.

Greg watched from the rocks, seeing the ship floundering and suddenly pitch to the side. He shrugged, but a sudden flash of red caught his eye. He shot out, hoping for something to eat, but pausing as he realized. A man. Tall and lean, red hair. Finely clothed, sword on his belt, boots pulling him deeper into the water. Greg grinned, and swam, tugging him into his arms, tilting his chin up to look at his face. 

Mycroft’s eyes flew open at the touch. The strange...creature was looking at him. Not a man, but something of myth. He gasped, sucking in water, choking, drowning.

Greg smiled and pressed their lips together, breathing the human air as he swam, heading for the caves. 

Mycroft was surprised to find the creature pushing air into his lungs. He was so focused on that that he was barely aware when they passed from the filtered light into somewhere far dimmer. The creature pushed him up and he gasped, breathing in air, coughing, lying exhausted still half in the water, the upper half on some cold stone shelf. There was some light coming from somewhere up above.

Greg remained in the water, brushing against the humans hips and legs, nipping at the pale, speckled skin. He would make a good mate, Greg decided, and he let the human know with a definitive brush between his legs. 

Blinking, Mycroft looked back at the creature, barely visible in the light, but what he wanted was obvious. He was exhausted and hungry, still half drowned. “No,” he muttered, pulling weakly away.

Greg frowned, and flicked some water at him with his tail. He brushed past again, twining his body through the human’s legs suggestively. 

Mycroft moaned despite himself. His preferred tastes were largely frowned upon and it had been quite some time since he’d indulged in anything. “I don’t even know your name.”

Greg paused. “Name?” he repeated, then saw that the human nodded. “Name…” He thought through the human languages he knew then pointed to himself in question. “Je m’appelle?” he asked, excited at the progress he was making with his new mate.

“Oui, m’appelle Mycroft.”

Greg flicked his tail eagerly and swam up to brace his arms on the rock. “Mycroft,” he parroted. “You are Mycroft. I am Greg. This is English.” He shot the human a questioning look. “Hello?” 

“Hello,” said Mycroft, smiling despite himself. “You saved my life.”

“Yes,” Greg replied, finding the words flowing easier. “You are mine now.” 

“Oh? What does that mean?” Mycroft had a good guess. “I can’t breathe water like you.”

Greg flipped his tail eagerly. “Mate. My mate.” 

“But how? I’m human.”

Greg sighed and pulled himself from the water and onto the rocky shelf. He reached out and turned Mycroft’s head to face his tail. “Watch..ahh... si vous plait?” 

“Okay.” Mycroft remained where he was, still too exhausted to move.

Greg looked at him with slight concern, waiting for his scales to dry out. “¿Lo que está mal?”

“I’m very tired. And hungry. We were fighting that storm for a week.”

“Hungry?” Greg asked. He cocked his head and placed a hand on Mycroft stomach. “This?” 

Mycroft nodded.

“Wait,” Greg said and slipped back into the water. “Stay.” He sank down, swimming out into the ocean again. 

Mycroft didn’t have much choice, even if he wanted to. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, thinking about the implications of ‘mate’. Were there others like Greg?

Greg popped back up, moments later, fish in hand. “Eat,” he said, and happily rolled the fish over to Mycroft. 

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. Raw, of course. Still he reached out with trembling fingers to take it. 

"Not good?" Greg asked, seeing the human, his Mycroft, hesitating. "Don't like?" 

“I don’t usually eat raw,” he said.

"Raw?" Greg asked. 

“I usually eat cooked food.” Mycroft sighed. “It’s fine.” He made a face and brought it to his mouth.

Greg cocked his head and reached out, snatching the fish away. "No. Wait." He ducked back down, swimming out to the wreck and searching for a few things that he'd seen other humans use. He surfaced in the cave again a few moments later, pushing the metal tin up to Mycroft. 

Mycroft opened it. There was some jerky and sea biscuits and he tore into it, almost heedless.

"Not raw?" Greg asked, pulling himself out onto the shelf again and eating the fish himself. 

“Yes, not raw. Cooked.” He tore away a piece of the jerky and offered it to him.

Greg raised an eyebrow, tail twitching inquisitively. He leaned over, taking the jerky in his teeth. "Salt." 

“Yes, it is salty.” Mycroft looked at his tale. As the water dried from the scales, legs could be seen.

Greg caught him looking. "See?" He said. "Mate." 

"But where am I going to live?" He could see now the merman was covered in strange markings that faintly glowed. Perhaps he was dead already. 

"Not here," Greg said, searching for the words. "Hm...you know sand? And tall weed?" He said, pointing up. "Live there. Many pools for young, for old." 

“Is that where your people live?”

"Some," Greg said, leaning over and nuzzling into Mycroft's neck. "Mmm. Humans always smell strange. But you are good." 

Mycroft was too weak to bat him away. “So I’m not the first human you’ve met.”

"No. But I'll keep you," Greg said happily, nipping at the skin. "Mate now?" 

“If we must. But I’m very tired.”

Greg frowned. "Wait?" He lay down and pulled Mycroft to him, nuzzling into him. 

Greg was a bit warmer then the shelf, Mycroft couldn’t help but lean into him, naturally seeking warmth as the salt dried on his skin.

Greg hummed, stroking Mycroft's back soothingly. "My mate. Sleep, My." 

Mycroft’s eyes drifted closed and despite himself he fell into an exhausted sleep.

**

"Mate?" Greg said, nuzzling into the human once more. "Mycroft. No more sleeping." 

Blinking, Mycroft opened his eyes and sat up. So no, not dead, and he hadn’t hallucinated the merman either, unless this was very elaborate. He swallowed and looked around. They were in some kind of makeshift shelter, covered by large leaves. The water wasn’t very far away, drumming against the beach. 

Greg was here, of course, still naked, cock half hard as he looked at him. He could see now that his hair was silver, those same markings glowing less in the daylight then they had in the cave. “Hello,” said Mycroft.

"Hi." Greg smiled at him. "You slept very long." 

“Well, I was very tired. Thank you.”

"Two days," Greg continued. "Hungry?" 

“Yes, very.” Mycroft rubbed his scruffy cheeks, noticing his clothes were torn and probably irreparable. He was going to have a terrible sunburn in a place like this.

"Come," Greg said, ducking out of the shelter. "Not raw," he continued, pointing at the fire he'd started. 

“Oh. Yes. Thank you.” There were some fish cooking and he took one to eat, practically wolfing it down.

Greg sat down, crossing his legs and watching Mycroft eat, sitting very close. 

“Tell me about yourself?” asked Mycroft as he tore into the next fish.

"What do you want to know?"

“Just, anything, about you, your people?”

"I am Gregory. My people are the Le'strada. Lestrade is how humans call us." Greg smiled. "There is another human here. She will help you. But no meeting her yet. Mate first, before others claim your scent. I like fish." 

“What does being your mate mean? Obviously copulation, but what else?”

"You live with me. You swim with me. You eat with me. You raise the children. We..." Greg searched for the word. "We have the ceremony." 

“I’m male. I can’t have children,” said Mycroft, watching him.

"You don't. We have the...spare? No parents," Greg said. 

“Ah.” Mycroft looked off at the horizon. Was there any reason to try and go home? All of his ambitions seemed like nothing now. Of his family, he knew only his brother would miss him. For the rest of them, he was only one misstep away from being exposed and outed. Nodding to himself he turned to Greg. “Okay.”

"Mate?" Greg asked excitedly. "You agree?"

“Yes,” said Mycroft, looking back at him. Not so enthused, but figuring it was making the best of a bad situation.

Greg grinned, and moved up to him, nuzzling into his neck. "Now." 

Mycroft nodded and pulled off his shirt, moving back into the shelter and lying on his back as he looked up at him.

Greg followed him in, tugging irritatedly at Mycroft's bottoms. "No," he said and managed to pull them away. "I like this," he said, looking over Mycroft's body. He bent down, and nuzzled into his stomach once more. 

“I don’t understand.”

"What do you not?" 

“How do you want me?”

"This is good. Taste." 

"You want to taste me?"

Greg nodded, and pushed Mycroft's legs up, knees bent. He dipped his head, running his tongue in the crease of Mycroft's thigh and through the wiry red hairs. "Taste," he said, and moved lower. 

Mycroft gasped. He’d never been touched like this. There had been a few fumbled encounters, but nothing at all like what Greg was doing.

"Okay?" Greg asked, looking up, moving to lap questioningly at Mycroft's cock. 

Mycroft moaned. “Yes, good.” Despite the strangeness it felt very very good.

"Bien. Bien." Greg nuzzled into his thigh and then swallowed him down in one motion. 

Mycroft cried out. He’d performed such an act once, but it had never been done to him. He wondered now how the man had kept so quiet. He thrust up against Greg’s mouth, mind gone in a haze of bliss.

Greg moaned around his length, bobbing his head. 

Mycroft kept thrusting his hips automatically. One hand reached down to run fingers through Greg’s hair.

Greg hollowed his cheeks, taking him deeper. 

“I..I’m,” Mycroft tried to warn him

Greg made a low purring noise, stroking his thighs with his hands, sucking hard. 

Mycroft cried out and came down his throat.

Greg swallowed everything down and pulled off, licking his lips. "Salt. Good mate. Tastes good." He nuzzled Mycroft's stomach, nudging him onto his stomach. "Me now." 

Mycroft panted and rolled onto his hands and knees on instinct, still shaking.

Greg bit gently on his cheek, and then spread them, lapping teasingly over his hole. "Mine," he muttered happily, cock tapping against his stomach. 

Moaning, Mycroft rocked back against him, keening with pleasure.

Greg kept licking until Mycroft's hole was slick and twitching beneath his tongue. He brought his finger up to Mycroft's mouth, prodding at his lips. "Wet," Greg ordered. 

Mycroft sucked eagerly, moaning around him.

Greg pulled his finger away when it was sopping, and pressed between Mycroft's cheeks. "Push." 

Mycroft obeyed, eyes still closed.It hurt a bit, but he was still riding the haze of his orgasm.

"Bien? Good?" Greg asked, pushing his finger deeper, before withdrawing and adding a second.

“Yes, yes.”

Greg made the happy purring noise again, scissoring his fingers. "Mate now?" 

“Please.”

Greg grinned, and pulled his fingers away, mounting Mycroft. He grasped his hips, nuzzling along his spine as he lined his long cock up, pushing inside in a slick movement. 

Mycroft moaned, pillowing his head in his hands. This was amazing.

Greg draped himself over Mycroft, nuzzling into him once more as he slid his cock out before thrusting in again. "Mate. My," he moaned pleasantly. 

“Yes. Yours,” muttered Mycroft. The haze of pleasure was beginning to fade.

Greg nipped at his shoulder. “Mycroft…” 

“Yes, Gregory?”

“Mine. Pleasure? Feels good?” Greg asked, thrusting again. 

“Yes, good. You?”

“Yes,” Greg moaned, nuzzling him. "Mine," 

Mycroft could only kneel there in the sand, moaning softly as Greg sought his pleasure. He wondered about the nuzzling, if it meant the affection it seemed to mean. He’d known Greg only a short time, yet here he was committing himself to him. But it was also good to have protection in this strange new world.

Greg kept rocking, until with a low moan he came, filling Mycroft. He dropped back down, licking him clean, nuzzling into his arse.

Mycroft moaned again, settling onto his stomach, already drifting back towards sleep.

Greg noticed when Mycroft went limp and he shrugged, checking on the human. He smiled as he saw Mycroft was asleep, and he crawled in next to him, laying down on the cool sand and tugging him to his chest. “My mate,” he rumbled, nuzzling Mycroft’s neck and closing his own eyes. 

**

When Mycroft woke again it was dark. Greg seemed to be dozing next to him. His arse ached, but he felt stronger than he had in awhile. Quietly, he slipped from the shelter and crawled outside. The sky above was strewn with stars, but alas, he’d never learned enough about them to navigate. A cool breeze ruffled his hair and he leaned back on his hands, wincing just slightly.

“Dia duit,” came a quiet voice from a nearby pool, another merperson flicking their tail at him. “Cad is ainm duit?” 

Mycroft blinked and looked towards the voice. This one apparently spoke Irish. Luckily, he’d done some work there and picked up the language. “Hello,” he answered back in kind.

The merperson grinned. “You are not Irish. Irish is what she speaks, but you sound of sand grinding when you speak. She says then that means you speak this. English?” She came over, pulling her tail along the sand to look at Mycroft. 

“Yes, I’m English. You all speak a multitude of languages?”

“Multitude?” she parroted. 

“Many languages.”

“No. Some of some, not all of many,” she replied. “Marta,” she said, pointing to herself. “You didn’t say.” 

“Mycroft, sorry. It’s been a strange few days.”

“You are Greg’s now,” Marta said. “He left you alone?” 

“He’s asleep, right here.”

Marta shook her head. “Strange Greg. Likes two legs, too much. I like the waves.” She slinked back over dropping her tail into the water with a sigh. “You need food? Something? You are family. You ask.” 

“Are you related to Greg?”

“Everyone is family. But…” She hesitated. “You have mate. Mate has two parents. Parents have two children. That is Greg to me. Other child. Deirfiúr. ” 

“Ah. I have a brother. Like Greg is to you. I don’t suppose I will see him again.” A bit of sadness flickered across his tone.

“Sea brings what we need,” Marta said knowingly. “Sea will bring him.” 

“Would it do any good to ask where I am? We were blown off course, a big storm. My ship sank.”

“I don’t understand this question. You are here,” Marta replied. 

“That’s what I thought,” said Mycroft, looking back out to sea. “Can you tell me about here?”

“We live underneath the sand and the waves,” Marta said. “Sometimes we come here. There is a human on the other side. She came to us as a small child. You should find her. Not English, but speaks. Food from the sea and trees for human. She makes “huts”. I don’t understand why. The leaves are good enough.” 

“Well I can’t live in the waves like you. And the sun will burn me, so I’ll need a hut too.”

“Burn? Red scales?” Marta asked. “No. Human uses the wooden soft fur. No burning. Find her. Ask Greg where.” 

“I will in the morning. Thank you Marta.”

Marta smiled. “Go find Greg. Sleep with mate.” She slipped further into the water and then vanished into the waves. 

Feeling a bit better about the whole situation, Mycroft went back to the shelter and curled up against this strange man.

Greg turned in his sleep, cuddling protectively against Mycroft and nuzzling into his throat. 

Mycroft smiled softly and ran his fingers through his hair, wondering just what his life would be now.

**

Greg woke to a gentle breeze ruffling Mycroft’s hair, making it tickle his nose. He grumbled and slipped out of the shelter and into the water, hunting them down some breakfast. 

Mycroft woke alone, and his heart skipped when he realized. He got out of the shelter and looked around. The shelter was next to the pool that Marta had come from last night. Everything felt tropical and he could hear the ocean. Climbing a small hill got him a view of the ocean . On the far side of the small island he could see what had to be a campfire. There were no other signs of life, but there were a few other pools that dotted the island. There must be a series of sea caves underneath somewhere. He swallowed and realized how thirsty he was, and wondered where fresh water could be found.

Greg clambered out of one of the pools, catching sight of Mycroft above on the hill. He whistled shrilly, hoping to catch his attention as his tail dried out in the hot sun, his morning catch on his lap. 

Mycroft clambered down the hill and smiled at his, well, mate. “Is there fresh water?”

"Water?" Greg asked and pointed at the pool. "Salt." He glanced around, pointing inland. "No salt," he said and stood on dry legs. "Come?" 

Mycroft nodded and reached for his hand on the slippery ground.

Greg chattered happily to him in his own language, even though Mycroft couldn't understand yet. "No salt," he said, stopping at a bubbling spring. "She drinks here." 

“Thank you.” Mycroft knelt and cupped his hand, drinking carefully though he was quite thirsty; he knew too much would make him sick. “May I meet her?”

Greg nodded. "Fish first." He jogged back over to get their breakfast, before returning to Mycroft. He stretched his hand out to Mycroft again. "What is this named?" he asked inquisitively as Mycroft took it. 

“Just holding hands. It’s often used as a sign of affection.”

Greg nodded in understanding. "We are mates," he said. "And we can hold hands." He smiled at Mycroft, nuzzling into his neck quickly, before guiding him to the other side of the island, following the smoke from the fire. 

“What does the nuzzling mean?” asked Mycroft.

"Nuzzle?" Greg asked, the word sitting strangely on his tongue.

"It's their equivalent of kissing," came a human voice from within a tree. A woman dropped down, coconut in hand. "How they show affection." She said something to Greg and Greg smiled, pushing Mycroft over to her with a reply. "I see you're mates." 

“Apparently, yes. I’m Mycroft.”

"Anthea." She smiled. "I apologize. My English will be rusty. The merpeople are more familiar with Irish. Are you hungry?" 

“I ate a bit, but if you have something more than fish I’d be grateful.”

Anthea laughed. "It gets tiring after a while. Here. I was about to cook." Greg cleared his throat, and said something, holding up the fish. She laughed again and replied as she took them. "Greg says if you'd just told him you were tired of fish, he'd have gotten you something else. He understands a lot more English than he speaks, but you might have more luck with French. He learned that human language first." 

“I speak a fair number of languages myself. I was told you came here as a child?”

"Yes, my family's ship was wrecked. I was the only survivor. I've been here for ten years or so. I've lost track." She smiled. "It's all right though. They'll treat you well." 

“I’ve only been here a few days, and I slept through most of it. Do you have a mate as well?”

"Yes. He'll be around anytime now," Anthea said, just as Greg turned toward one of the pools, letting out a low greeting to the merman climbing out. 

“Good morning,” he said in their language. “This must be your mate. It’s good you’ve finally chosen one.” Two small children followed their father out.

Anthea politely translated, before introducing her mate and the children. "This is Anton. And these are my girls," she said with a smile. "Mary and Rosa." 

Greg chuckled as the children sat, waiting for their tails to dry. He reached over and patted Mycroft's stomach, giving his cock a short stroke as he conversed with Anton. 

Mycroft flushed at the touch, unused to any such a thing publically. Then again, it hadn’t even occurred to him to put his trousers back on, so maybe things were already changing in his mind.

"Don't let it make you uncomfortable. He's just making sure Anton knows you're his," Anthea said. "The same happened to me. Once the word gets out he'll stop." Greg turned, and nuzzled into Mycroft for a moment. "He really is quite fond of you already. Greg's refused to take a mate for quite some time." She finished what she was doing with the coconut and handed it to Mycroft, hole in the top. "Here. Drink this." 

"Thank you." He brought it to his lips. "This is all so different from the life I've known."

"Yes, but if you let it, it can be a good one."

They stayed for a bit longer, Anthea sending Mycroft away with some dried food and safe to eat fruits, as well as a sort of salve made from coconuts to help his skin. Greg happily held Mycroft's hand on the way back, and when they returned to the leafy shelter, he sat, opening his arms pointedly. 

Mycroft moved to his arms and sighed with his head against his shoulder. "Thank you."

"For?" Greg asked, nuzzling into him. 

"Taking care of me."

"My mate," Greg replied. "Humans say...je t'aime." 

"My love," said Mycroft. "My life before you is already fading."

"Stay with me," Greg said. "Always..." 

Mycroft leaned in and nuzzled him awkwardly as Greg smiled. 

**

Things began to settle after that. Anthea helped him build a more proper hut and taught him about the island. In return he taught her about the world outside. He also started to teach her and Greg and the kids to write. 

Greg was a good provider. He gave Mycroft a few tokens of his affections that he decorated their hut with. And their lovemaking only got better. 

Instead of their customary cuddling after one day, Greg stroked Mycroft's stomach before standing and leaving their hut at a call from outside. He ducked back in and nuzzled Mycroft, then disappeared into one of the pools without a word. 

Mycroft blinked and wondered, but he waited patiently, figuring it must be important. 

Greg came back a few hours later, a bundle in his arms. He greeted Mycroft, handed it over, then returned to the water, speaking to someone. A small girl poked her head out, looking shyly at Mycroft. 

“Hello,” said Mycroft in their language. He’d been steadily learning it.

She smiled, and glanced at Greg. "Hi." 

“I’m Mycroft, what’s your name?”

"Malea." 

Greg helped her from the water, shooting a warning glance at Mycroft as her tail emerged. It was torn, and would surely scar once healed. "She's from very far away," Greg said quietly in English. "She and her parents were attacked. Only she got away." 

“I see,” said Mycroft. He bent down and scooped her up, carrying her to their hut. “Would you like to, ah, stay with us Malea?”

"Greg said I would. He said you can't have children and you want me." Malea said, waiting for her tail to dry out. 

“I would like that. I don’t have a tail like you and Greg, so I live here.”

"My tail is hurt." 

“I can see that. Does it pain you?”

"A little. Greg has to help me swim. Do I have to call you Mycroft and Greg?" Malea wrinkled her nose. 

“What would you like to call us?”

"I don't know. Can you be my dads? I had two moms before, so now I could have two dads, right?" 

“Certainly. You can call me Poppa and he can be Dad.”

Malea sighed. "Okay. But...my moms aren't ever gonna come back, are they? Because if they do, I'm gonna go with them. Mom pushed me away and then went back for Mama after that thing hurt us. Do you think they're just lost? Or dead?" 

Greg glanced at Mycroft and kneeled down beside Malea. "They went to find them, sweetheart. They weren't there anymore. We think they died. But we'll take good care of you, promise." 

Mycroft nodded. “I’m sorry, Malea.”

"It's okay," Malea said. "I'm gonna go be sad outside in the water." She stood on shaky legs, blinking down at her feet. She gave a tiny smile and went outside, sitting on the sand and watching the waves. 

Greg sat beside Mycroft, and nuzzled him. "She's special." 

“I can see that. What can I do?”

"Let her mourn." Greg sighed and laid his head on Mycroft's shoulder. "She will deal with it in her own way. My people know that death waits in the sea. But there is nothing we can do, so we carry on." 

“Is it very dangerous?”

"The open sea? Are you not here?" Greg asked, looking at him carefully. 

“True,” sighed Mycroft. He leaned against him. “I just worry about you sometimes.”

"Me? Why do you worry?" 

“Because you go into the sea and sometimes I am afraid you won’t come back. That something will happen to you.”

"Then you find a new mate. You will go to the sea and be sad in the water so it knows what it has done. It will bring you what you need." Greg said. "Cannot be sad for me. Not always." 

Mycroft nodded and leaned in to kiss him. “What else did you bring me?”

"You say books," Greg replied with a grin. "Open it." 

Mycroft did and broke into a wide grin. “Oh this is amazing.” He carefully opened the first one. “It’ll take me time to figure out the language, but this is an excellent puzzle.”

"Marta finds them. No...Marta found them when she found Malea. She said I should have you read them." 

“I will. Thank you.”

Greg nuzzled into him. "I want you to be happy." 

“I know, and I am.”

Greg sighed. "I love you," he said carefully in English. 

"I love you too."

Greg smiled. "Mycroft Holmes loves Gregory Lestrade very much." He laughed. "My English is getting better." 

He stood. "I will go find dinner. We have a child who will be hungry." 

**

"Malea. Get down!" Greg said, shouting up into the tree. 

"Poppa said I could!" She replied, dropping down as Greg glared at Mycroft. 

Mycroft shrugged. "It isn't very high. And she wanted to pick a coconut for supper."

"She has to be careful," Greg said. "Our human legs are weaker than yours." He sighed. "What are you doing?" 

"There's some runes in this book."

"And you are learning them? Why?" 

"I think they'll let me breathe underwater for a short time."

"So you can come with me? You will swim?" Greg asked in disbelief. 

"I think so."

"When will you know?" Greg asked excitedly, coming close. "When will you try?"

"Soon. I want to make sure I understand it."

"You will learn. And then you will see my world," Greg said. "Malea will be so happy." 

"I hope so."

**

It was a couple weeks later that he felt ready to try. He read the runes, looked to Greg, and plunged into the pool. 

Greg slipped in after him, ready to pull him out if it didn't work. Instead, Mycroft's skin began to glow, markings like Greg's forming over his neck and shoulders. 

Mycroft's eyes were wide as he breathed, Malea swimming around them. "I don't have much time," he told Greg, reaching for his hand. 

"How long?" Greg asked, already swimming as he took Mycroft's hand, guiding him down.

"Maybe an hour at the most."

"Then we will hurry," Greg said and turned him around to see their audience and the homes.

Mycroft stared, surprised and pleased. Many Merfolk were watching them, their homes carved out of the cave walls. 

"Greetings," one said, swimming out to meet them. "You are my son's mate." 

Mycroft inclined his head. “I am quite honored to be so.”

“You do not have long here?” Greg’s father asked. “But you can come again?” 

“I think so. I found magic in the ancient books.”

The merman smiled. “Then when you can, we shall have the mating feast.” 

“I look forward to it. Thank you for the books.”

“Do not thank me. Thank your child. She and her mothers were bringing them.”

Greg stepped in. “We only have a little time. I wish to share our home with my mate. May we depart?” 

“Yes, go.”

Greg nodded to his father and pulled Mycroft away as the merfolk parted. “This is where I grew up,” he said, pulling Mycroft deep into a cavern. The walls were lit with glowing blue weeds, small fish darting through the water. “This was my home. Before I found you,” he said as they paused in a small rocky cavern. Greg nuzzled into Mycroft, pulling him fully into his arms. 

Mycroft sighed against him. “It’s beautiful. My home, before, it was nothing like this.”

“What was it like?” 

“A great city. Full of people. Thousands of them.”

“That many?” Greg asked. “Do you…” He turned to Mycroft, holding his chin. “Do you want to go back?” 

“Not anymore. I miss my brother sometimes, but I like the life I have with you. And I don’t think you’d like it.”

“Why not?” Greg asked. “I am with you there. I’d be happy.” 

“It doesn’t matter anyway. We have no way to get there.” Mycroft nuzzled against him.

“If you wanted to go back, I would make a way to take you,” Greg said quietly, voice full of pain. “But promise you would take me. You cannot leave me.” 

“I promise. I swear.” He felt something shifting underneath his skin. “I think we best return to the surface.”

“Malea wants to stay here for a while,” Greg said. “Only you and I will return to the surface tonight.” He turned and began to swim, powerful tail propelling them upwards as he held Mycroft. 

Mycroft leaned against him, feeling safe in Greg’s arms.

Greg nuzzled him as they swam past a few merfolk, their strange eyes watching, waiting for the moment they broke the surface. “I love you,” Greg said, voice barely audible, just as Mycroft’s head pushed above the surface, Greg helping him onto the island from below. 

“My love, my mate,” muttered Mycroft, feeling weakened by the spell.

Greg frowned, concerned. He stroked Mycroft’s face and once his tail dried he lifted him in his arms, taking him to their hut and laying him down on the bed of leaves. “Mycroft? All right?” 

“Just tired. Magic takes a lot out of you apparently.”

“Sleep, then. I will feed you after,” Greg said, curling up next to him and nuzzling him. “You’re warm enough?” 

“Yes, love. Thank you for showing me.”

“You are welcome. Sleep.” Greg put an arm over him, and closed his own eyes. 

**

“Papa, Papa, there’s a ship!” Malea popped her head out of the pool and pulled herself onto land.

Mycroft hurried out of the hut. “A ship?” He looked in the direction she pointed and saw the sail on the horizon. Bending over, he picked her up and put her in the hut. “Where’s your father?”

“Here,” Greg replied, popping up. “Malea should go under with the other’s. If humans come, it may not be safe.” 

“Okay. I take it Anthea has been warned?”

“She has,” Greg said, ushering Malea back into the water. “Go play with Mary and Rosa,” he ordered, smiling. “I’ll come fetch you later.” 

“You’re staying with me?” asked Mycroft.

“I will not leave you,” Greg said, smile dropping from his face as soon as Malea was gone. He came over to Mycroft, nuzzling into him. “If the ship lands, we will face it together.” 

“Okay. I love you.”

Greg hesitated. “If these people will take you back...will you go?” he asked, as the ship drew closer. 

“Perhaps. Only if it’s acceptable to you and Malea. And us being mated...it’s not allowed where I am from. But there are other places with more freedom.”

“Not allowed?” Greg asked. “Why not? Nothing we do is wrong.” 

“The people where I live believe it is wrong.” Mycroft rubbed his temples. “I think the ship is getting closer.”

“It is going to land,” Greg said. “The captain sees us already. We should wait on the hill.”

“Okay.” Mycroft ducked into the hut for a moment, returning with some clothes he’d made out of plants on the island. “They don’t accept nakedness either.”

Greg groaned, but took one of the offered bottoms. “Why are humans so strange?” he asked, putting it on, and winking at Mycroft. “It’s too hard to mate when everything is covered.” 

“It’s a good question.” He went and stood with Greg, heart skipping with anticipation.

Greg squeezed Mycroft’s hand, then dropped it at the sight of the ship dropping anchor and a small rowboat being lowered with only three men. 

Mycroft frowned as it drew nearer. “It can’t be,” he breathed, hurrying down to meet the boat.

Greg made a noise of surprise and followed him. 

“John, get the parchment and ink, we’ll begin mapping as soon as I deal with these...people,” Sherlock said, waving his hand and staring down at a map. “I’m sure they’ll be more than glad to tell us of any treasure here in exchange for a return to England.” 

“Aye,” said John, looking around. Something about this place felt off, as if they were being watched by more than just the two figures.

“Aye. Aye. Is that all you say John, honestly,” Sherlock snapped, looking up. “What is bothering you? Is it the-” he trailed off, glancing at the figures as they hurried closer. “My telescope. Now.” 

John handed it over, watching him.

Sherlock let out a harsh breath. “Billy. As soon as we arrive on the island, take the ship back and do not return until I signal you with my pistol.” 

The other sailor nodded with a mumbled “yes cap’n”. They landed and Sherlock immediately hopped the side, striding through the surf, boot leather unheeded as he came upon the two men. 

“Mycroft.” 

“Oh my God it is you. Sherlock.” His hair had grown wilder with the years, but the eyes were the same. 

"As I'm quite sure I'm not dead, that means you are alive. What happened?" Sherlock asked. "It's been nearly ten years!" 

“My ship foundered. Greg rescued me.” He gestured at his mate. “And you, you’re a pirate?”

Sherlock grinned. "Of course. Mummy was actually rather supportive, if only because father was furious when I set off. I'm never to set foot in London again." 

"This is your brother?" Greg asked Mycroft quickly in his own language. "I don't understand pirate."

Mycroft chuckled. “Yes this is my brother. Sherlock this is Greg….my mate.”

Sherlock blinked. "Would he happen to have at some points a tail?" 

Mycroft wrapped an arm protectively around him. “Perhaps, why?”

"John! Hurry up!" Sherlock said, turning and calling the other man. "John!"

"What, Sherlock?" John asked, finally making it up the beach, laden with supplies. 

"It seems we've inadvertently stumbled upon another member of your species." 

John looked at Greg before speaking in his native tongue. “What tribe are you?”

"Le'strada," Greg replied, coming over to meet him. "Which are you?" 

“Watson. But I left home a long time ago.”

Greg turned to Mycroft. "That is Malea's tribe. He needs to meet her," he said and then turned back to John. "Will you swim with me?" 

John nodded and put down his burdens, following him.

Mycroft watched them head towards the nearest pool. “Well, this is all very unexpected. Will you come to my home, Sherlock?”

"Yes. I don't suppose there is any gold here, is there?" Sherlock asked, following him. "I believe we've gotten a bit turned around. I'll be firing my navigator, the man is a fool." 

“I have no idea where I am. My ship was blown off course in a storm.”

"Yes, Everyone assumed you were dead. Father blames you for my predilections of robbery and piracy of course." 

“Well, I have a life here. Greg, a daughter. I...I’ve missed you.”

"I hardly noticed you were gone," Sherlock lied, turning his eyes away. "Your stories though. I did notice when they stopped." 

“I’m sorry. You were the only reason I had for wanting to go back at all.”

"Well, I'm no longer in London," Sherlock said. "I have a ship, a crew and John. I don't need anything more than that. Well, at some point I will need an island to retire too. Do you think this might be a good choice?" 

“Depends on how you feel about the neighbors I suppose.”

"I don't think we'd see them too often," Sherlock replied, gracing Mycroft with a smile. "You are happy brother? I will never admit to asking this, nor will I ask again." 

“I am content, though I have missed you.”

"Excellent. Then I'm off to examine the flora and minerals of this island." Sherlock stood.

“Shall I show you around?”

"I suppose so," Sherlock replied. "How sturdy would you say those trees are?" 

“Fairly, why?”

“Because I plan to climb one of course. Don’t be foolish Mycroft,” Sherlock said, and darted out. By the time Mycroft joined him, he was already halfway up. 

**

“My. Wake,” Greg said, shaking Mycroft gently late one night. “Wake up.” 

"What is it?" Mycroft sat up quickly. 

“Come. I have to show you something,” Greg said, covering his eyes and leading him out. He sat down, pulling Mycroft into his lap. “Look,” he said, moving his hands. 

Mycroft opened his eyes. In the distance, he could see whales breaching, dark against the starry sky, their songs achingly lonely as the waves lapped upon the sand. "It's gorgeous."

"It is ours," Greg said, resting his hands on Mycroft's bare thighs. "The sea. It belongs to all of us." He nuzzled into his neck with a loving sigh. 

"I'm so glad the sea brought me to you."

"I am glad I did not let you go," Greg replied, beginning to stroke Mycroft's skin." You have been here so long. Sometimes I fear the sea will think it has made a mistake and take you from me." 

"I'm not going anywhere. And even if I did I'm taking you with me. I promised."

"I don't worry about you, I worry about the sea," Greg said. "It is fickle." 

Mycroft kissed him gently. "No need to worry about what we cannot change."

Greg frowned. "You haven't done that before." 

"What?"

"You pressed your lips to mine as though you were breathing my air. Ten cycles together and you have never done that."

"It's how my people show affection. Like the way you nuzzle against me."

Greg moved to straddle his waist. "Do it again." 

Mycroft smiled and kissed him again. 

Greg opened his mouth, tongue darting against Mycroft's lips curiously. 

Mycroft moaned against him, opening his mouth to him. 

Greg let out an pleased purring noise, exploring his mouth. "Mate?" he asked, an eerie echo of their first days together as he pulled away. "Here, Mycroft?" 

"Please. Yes."

Greg nodded and stood, extending a hand to Mycroft. “Come with me.” 

Mycroft took it, surprised as Greg led him into the water. "Greg?"

“Will you let me take you as my people do?” Greg asked quietly, turning Mycroft to face the distant break of night sky and sea. “It will be strange.” 

"Okay. I trust you."

“I love you,” Greg said, pulling them deeper so the waves lapped at their chests. “Are you good here?” 

"Yes."

Greg smiled and swam around to press their lips together once more. “Spread your legs.” 

Mycroft obeyed, watching the way the stars reflected in his eyes. 

Greg pressed up against Mycroft’s front, one hand moving around to tease his rim. 

Mycroft licked his lips and wrapped his arms around Greg's neck. 

“Trust me,” Greg murmured, and began to rub against Mycroft’s thigh as he opened him. 

Mycroft moaned, eyes falling closed, feeling Greg's cock emerge from a hidden slit. 

“My…” Greg breathed, fingers working. “Touch me.” 

Dropping one hand, Mycroft stroked his cock, moaning in his ear. 

“Stop,” Greg uttered, grasping his hand after a few moments. “Are you ready?” 

"Yes, yes."

Greg pulled his fingers away, and kissed Mycroft again. "I like this," he murmured. "We will do it more."

He swam around Mycroft, and pressed up against him, tail slipping between his legs. Greg wrapped his arms around the human's chest. "Lean back against me. I won't let you sink." 

Mycroft relaxed into his grasp, feeling himself open up around the merman’s cock.

Greg held him tight, and began to rock up into him, keeping the rhythm of the waves as he pushed them closer and closer. 

Moaning again, Mycroft opened his eyes, watching the sea and stars as his lover filled him.

“Mycroft,” Greg moaned, pushing deep into him. “Yes.” 

“Yours. Always yours,” Mycroft managed before a sharp cry was torn from his lips as he came, Greg following him over.

“Close your eyes,” Greg whispered, relaxing back into the water. “Listen to the sea.” 

Mycroft did, and knew that, no matter what, here he was home.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! You can find us on AO3 at [Janto321 ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/)and [HumsHappily](http://archiveofourown.org/users/humshappily) or on tumblr at [merindab ](http://merindab.tumblr.com)(janto321) and [HumsHappily](http://hums-happily.tumblr.com)!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Cover for "Listen to the Sea"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5157716) by [HumsHappily](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HumsHappily/pseuds/HumsHappily)




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